Scientist. This child should be brought up to be a physician, the other to be a shepherd.
Judge. Out with them.
Eve. Do not touch him! This is my child. Who dares to tear him away from his mother-breast?
Judge. Take him away! Why tarry with him any longer?
Eve. My child, my child! Did not I nourish thee with my heart-blood? Where is the power that may rend this holy bond? Shall I disclaim thee forever, that thou mayest be lost in the crowd, and my searching eye, in restless fear, shall in vain look for thee among a hundred similar phalanster-types?
Adam. O friend, if ought is sacred to you, leave this child to his poor mother.
Judge. You play, oh stranger, a daring game! If we allow the revival of the conquered prejudice, formerly called the family, then the acquisitions of our present science will tumble at once.
Eve. What is to me your frozen science? May it fall, where nature’s voice speaks.
Judge. Well! will it be done soon? (The child is carried away.)
Eve. My child, my child! (Eve faints.)